Escape from Malfoy Manor
by Kallanit
Summary: A short drabble with what I wish might have happened at Malfoy Manor. A little bit book-canon, a little bit movie-canon, and totally AU. Complete.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine, don't own it—I wish! Unfortunately, Harry Potter belongs to JKR; I'm just playing in her sandbox.

.o.O.o.

If ever Hermione Granger was grateful that no one in the Wizarding world had ever bothered themselves to learn anything about her life in the Muggle world, not even her best friends, then the time was now. Or at least it would be if she wasn't too busy trying not to lose her mind to a pain that was worse than anything she could ever possibly have imagined. Of course, even if anyone in the Wizarding world had learned this one pertinent detail about her, they would automatically have dismissed it as worthless because it was so _Muggle_.

In the throes of pain from the Cruciatus Curse that Bellatrix Lestrange was taking great pleasure in casting upon the younger witch, Hermione managed to curl up into the foetal position. Letting one hand drift down to clutch her ankles, she sneaked that hand into the leg of her jeans and grabbed the item she had hidden in an ankle holster. Something that even Harry didn't know about.

Waiting until the insane witch stopped cursing her long enough to produce a dagger, Hermione made her move, while she wasn't thrashing about under the curse. She knew she was trembling and her aim would be off, but Bellatrix was close enough that the tremors in Hermione's hand shouldn't matter.

As Bellatrix leant over her to begin trying to carve into Hermione's arm, the Muggleborn witch produced a compact handgun and pointed it at the Death Eater's head.

"What's this?" Bellatrix cackled. "Does the dirty little Mudblood think that some pathetic Muggle toy scares me?"

Not even deigning to reply, Hermione pulled the trigger. Her aim was indeed a little bit off, she noted clinically, but at point-blank range, that didn't really seem to have made much difference: Bellatrix's brains had splattered everywhere nonetheless.

Taking advantage of everyone's shock, Hermione pushed the dead witch to the side and rolled over, aiming at the Snatchers, beginning with Fenrir Greyback and Scabior, who she judged to be the most dangerous, and continuing until she had downed them all. Admittedly, she'd have been happier shooting Greyback with a silver bullet, but not even a werewolf could survive having his brains blown out, as his joined Bellatrix's in decorating the Malfoys' drawing-room.

After having dealt with the Snatchers, Hermione turned to face the Malfoys, who were open-mouthed in shock. "Give me your wands. Ours, too," she ordered them. "Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to shoot the lot of you, so give me all the wands in your possession. Right now," she added grimly when they didn't move. "Hands on your heads," she growled as the wands landed at her feet. "I don't trust any of you, so I want to see your hands at all times."

This was the point when Harry and Ron came running in to rescue her. Harry stopped in surprise at the sight of his female friend with a gun in her hand, looking as though she knew how to use it. In truth, her father was an amateur competitive shooter and had begun teaching his daughter to handle guns from a young age. Although John Granger kept his guns securely locked away, he reasoned it would still be safer if his daughter knew how to handle firearms properly. The young Hermione had taken to this sport like a duck to water, fascinated by the physics of it, and father and daughter had bonded over this shared interest. When sending her parents off to Australia, Hermione had raided her father's gun collection and made sure she was suitably armed. She hadn't known if she could ever actually bring herself to shoot someone, but had seen no reason not to be prepared just in case.

"Get the wands," she growled, and Ron rushed to obey.

"Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Bind them," she ordered her friends. Once the Malfoys were securely trussed, Hermione took the opportunity to check on her gun. Her magazine wasn't quite finished, but she swapped it for a fresh one anyway. No point in taking chances, she thought. With a wand in one hand and the gun in the other, she joined her friends in making her escape from Malfoy Manor.

.o.O.o.

 **A/N:** I know almost nothing about guns or competitive shooting, so please excuse any silly errors.


End file.
